Dry heave quietly in the back room it feels like I've been coughing up blood for years
Warm house cold friends the noise is distant
Nothing lines up like it should and I can't find the pen in my own hand but I'm writing
But I'm surviving
I am learning how to live in the midst of my own hell
Fragmented relationships spit venom over cups of coffee collapse and repeat
Self defense class on Saturday and I didn't sleep for two days
Paranoid about anyone who could be out to hurt me including myself
And I do
Put myself down in my own head alone
Quiet chiding that I didn't have to let go of the love I used to know
I am a delicate soldier sitting out on the roof till the morning
Trying to get a feel for the light
Trying to get back somewhere in time when my own skin wasn't the battlefield
And my stronghold was my mind
This isn't easy but it's fine
I'm not yours and I'm not mine
Even if it doesn't make sense
(Which it never does)
I'm a walking paradox
Confliction even in the cracks of my skin
The optimistic realist.
The tired kid in the back of the room shaking with fear and wonder at the weight of the world.
What a beautiful thing to live
What a beautiful thing to be
Even when it comes in waves in the bathroom I am learning to hold it right and save
Every ******* bit of life around me
Take the bitter with the sweet and everything in between
I'm just in between the end and beginning
And I'm doing just fine.